“Or what?” Margaret asked.
“Or I’ll kill you,” Dante replied, slamming the door behind him. He moved slowly through the hall until he reached his study. Above the fireplace stood a framed picture featuring Margaret and her husband Ray holding a newborn Alexandra. Dante had taken the picture, their joint thought was that was the only way Dante could be in the frame somehow. Dante could never have known that over twenty years later he would’ve lost all three of the people in the picture in one way or another. He had lived the majority of his immortal life to protect humans. To live a good life, if not an honourable one. This required an almost indifferent perspective on a day to day basis. Not to take an interest in their lives, the stupid mistakes they made. To view them as people, not food. But Dante realised how that line of thinking had worked out so far and it made him think his entire outlook had been flawed. How many lives could have been spared, or better off if he had thought differently, like Vincent. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless.
Dante had spent so many decades early in his vampire life searching for the one that made him, all to no avail. From there, he had created his own way of living for eternity. His own path and mindset. He had long given up the idea of finding and killing the creature that made him, but he would never be the monster that beast was. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless.
Dante could never do that. Or so he had thought, as the frame crumbled to pieces in his blood and charcoal stained hand.
Chapter Eight
This Is Australia
Alex hissed as Michelle pressed down on the stickered gauze. “Sorry,” Michelle whispered. Once done, Michelle adjusted Alex’s pyjama top over her shoulders, to which Alex moved her shoulders out of the way. Alex’s hair still dripped from the shower, but she had made no attempt to dry it and Michelle thought it best not to press.
Michelle backed off and sat facing Alex on her bed.
“Did you know?” Alex asked quietly.
Michelle shook her head.
“Am I supposed to believe you?”
Michelle reached out a hand. “Alex…” but she was waved off.
“I know you’re hiding something from me. I could tell at the hospital. After everything that we’ve been through, the last thing I ever thought was that you would lie to me.”
“Alex, it’s not like that! It’s just…it’s so complicated.”
“So uncomplicate it. Please! Am I dying? Did I shoot a dog or something? Did we have a fight? Did I say something to upset you? Tell me. I can handle it.”
Michelle clenched her sweaty hands, struggling with the words. “Alex, it’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. Please try to understand that we were advised-“
“We? Who’s we?”
“Well, me and…and you. I mean, you were in the room, just asleep.”
“Would you just tell me?!” Alex had taken Michelle’s hand and looked into her eyes as if desperately trying to keep her emotions from overflowing. “Mish please…just trust me.”
“Hun, trust has nothing to do with it. I told you, we were advised not to mention anything about the last few days. At least until you’d recovered.”
Alex clasped her hands tighter. “Did I do something?! Did I hurt someone?” she yelled.
Michelle looked into her eyes, clearly filled with fear. God, how was she supposed to tell her, without telling her? “Hun…you…no, you didn’t do anything.”
Alex let her hands go and stood up. “I hit my head. That’s what you’re still going with? We both know that’s a lie. This,” she said, pointing to her side, “isn’t a bump on the head. Lying to me is one thing, but thinking I’m an idiot is a low act.”
Alex stormed out of the room, rushing past Michelle in a flash.
“Alex…Alex!”
Alex had vacated the apartment before Michelle had even left the room. Michelle bolted after her, her own thoughts slowing her down; what to say when she caught up to Alex? How best to explain? How to get her back inside? Although it would crush Michelle, she would rather Alex hate her than be unprotected.
Michelle stepped foot into the brisk night and spotted Alex roughly ten feet away, turning into the street. She probably just needed to cool off, but Michelle couldn’t let her out of her sight.
A man sat on the mailboxes, looking casual if not a little cold even in his parka. “Hey Alex,” he said as Alex strolled past him.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, standing.
Michelle’s senses were alert. Panic made her sprint forward, screaming Alex’s name as the stranger reached into his jacket and pulled out a stubbed pistol.
“But Julian Kent sends his regards,” he sneered, pulling the trigger twice.
Michelle reached the scene almost instantly but Alex was already motionless on the ground. The shooter spun around and locked eyes with Michelle. In that instant, he would’ve seen the pain…the hurt…the devastation she carried because of his actions. There was a brief moment of shock on his face, and that was all Michelle needed. As he prepared his gun arm to aim at her, she leapt up and brought her knees to her chest before lashing
